A Noble Contradiction
by ChocolatteKitty-Kat
Summary: The adventures of King Caspian X during the three years between the event s of Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.
1. All The King's Horses

**A/N: Welcome to yet another hole I'm digging myself into! As if everything else I'm working on right now, here's some Caspian-era fic! This collection is (hopefully) going to work like The Golden Years, The Stories We Haven't Heard, and Shooting Stars to be a collection of one shots/short fics that are loosely connected to one another. The difference here is that I'm hoping that this collection will be a little more planned out and fall into a more chronological order, whereas the others I just sort of dump stuff in whenever I write it. The stories in All the King's Horses will cover the time between _Prince Caspian_ and _Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ -I don't think that they'll cover any time after VotDT, but we'll see. Additionally, unlike The Golden Years, which could technically fit into either the CoN book- or movie-verse, All the King's Horses is rooted pretty firmly in the movie-verse.**

 **Also! My stories will now be available on Archive of our Own as well as on ! So, if you use AO3, check me out over there! My username is the same. I'm also transitioning all of my older stories over there, so they'll be available on both sites-not just my new ones!**

 **This first story (which is kind of a title story) is loosely inspired by the song "All the King's Horses" by Karmina. It's a really wonderful song, and I think it suits Caspian really well. You can find a lyric video of the song here:** **! !/u1j2LoW3P14 (copy paste and remove the !).**

 **Summary: Caspian deals with loneliness after the Pevensies leave Narnia.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, _Prince Caspian_ , or any of the characters, plotlines, ideas/concepts, etc, from them. I do, however, own these stories and their plots, as well as all original ideas, concepts, and characters presented herein. Thank you!**

 **.*.*.*.*.*.**

The newly-crowned King Caspian X shivered. He was settled comfortably-well, as comfortably as one could be on a huge metal-and stonework chair-in his throne, the throne of Narnia, in the great hall of the castle of the Telmarines. Despite the warmth of the summer's day outside, the heavy stone walls of the castle kept the interior blessedly cool. However, with the chill of the throne at his back, and of the air of the castle, not to mention that he hadn't moved in what felt like absolute hours, Caspian was starting to feel like a block of ice.

Arrayed around the hall in front of him, most of them seated on the chairs that had once belonged to the Telmarine council of Lords, were Caspian's new Lords and advisors. There was Trumpkin, the Red Dwarf, next to Trufflehunter the Badger. Reepicheep, although he had no desire to be a Lord, had consented to be one of Caspian's advisors, and so had a seat as well. The other seats were occupied by satyrs, minotaurs, fauns, dwarves, and Talking Beasts, along with a few of the remaining Telmarines. There were two centaurs in the chamber as well, and a single brown bear. In one of the seats nearest Caspian sat Doctor Cornelius. The young king valued his old tutor's opinions higher than almost anyone else's, and had appreciated the half-dwarf's familiar presence over his first few weeks as king.

In the center of the chamber, one of the centaurs stood, informing the rest of the council of the results of his most recent reading of the stars. Caspian suppressed a yawn. As interesting as the speech was, the young king was unaccustomed to sitting still for so long-especially after the events of the past few weeks, as he had fought to reclaim Narnia from his wicked uncle alongside the four Kings and Queens of old. He fidgeted slightly in the throne. The bright sun streaming through the windows of the throne room was beginning to call to him.

Quite suddenly, Caspian realized that the hall had fallen silent. A quick glance around showed all eyes on him. Caspian cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Very good, Arsithus," he stammered. "Thank you for sharing your prophecies with us."

The centaur arched an eyebrow, but wordlessly made his way back to the edge of the chamber. Caspian made a mental note to ask Cornelius what had been said, and to apologize to Aristhus for his inattention later.

Cornelius stood and looked around the chamber. "Is there any more business for the day?" he asked, turning fully to look at the occupant of each seat. When no-one responded, Cornelius nodded firmly. "Then I suggest that we end our session for the day, and reconvene at our next scheduled meeting time."

Caspian sank back into his throne as the lords and Narnians all stood and began to make their way out of the chamber. He sent a grateful smile in Cornelius's direction before the doctor turned, sending a wink back towards the king in exchange.

Once the chamber had emptied of everyone but Caspian and Reepicheep-the mouse hardly ever left the king's side, insisting that danger could come at any moment, and appointing himself as the king's bodyguard-the king stood. The mouse hopped off of his chair and fell into step behind Caspian.

"Hello, Reep," Caspian smiled down at him. "What did you think of all of that?"

The mouse glanced around, as though making sure that they were truly alone, and replied in a conspiratorial tone: "A bit stuffy for my tastes, sire. On a day like today, I would much rather be out and about, enjoying the sunshine and practicing my swordplay."

Caspian hid a smile. "In that case, it sounds like we're of the same mind. How do you feel about a ride, Reepicheep?"

"That sounds magnificent, sire," the mouse positively skipped alongside his king the rest of the way to the stables.

Once Destrier was saddled and led out of the stable, Caspian mounted up.

"Sire!" came a call from across the courtyard. Caspian turned to see one of the younger centaurs trotting towards him. "Where are you going?"

"Just out for a ride," Caspian said with a grin. "Don't worry, I'm not running away."

"That's not what I was worried about, sire," the centaur gave a nervous chuckle. "It's just… are you sure that's safe, your majesty?"

"What do you mean?" Caspian asked.

"Well, you never know what sort of dangers there might be out there," he scraped the ground with one hoof. "And you are the king now…"

"What is your name?" Caspian asked.

"Avernetrios, sire," the centaur bowed deeply.

"Avernetrios," Caspian repeated. "There's nothing to worry about. My enemies are all either dead or far away from here. Not to mention, I have King Peter's sword with me, and Reepicheep to watch my back." The Talking Mouse was perched in front of Caspian's saddle, tiny hands gripping Destrier's mane firmly.

Before Avernetrios could reply, Caspian touched his heels to Destrier's sides, and the horse set off in a determined trot.

"Your majesty!" Avernetrios called after them.

"If you're worried for my safety, feel free to come along!" Caspian called over his shoulder as they rode through the gate. As soon as they were on the open bridge, he nudged the horse's sides again, and Destrier was off like an arrow from a bow.

The wind that rushed past them whipped at Caspian's hair and stung his eyes. Reepicheep hugged himself close to Destrier's neck, the wind tearing at his ears and making the red feather he always wore bob and flutter. As they reached the far side of the bridge, Caspian hear another set of hoofbeats echoing around them. A glance over his shoulder revealed Avernetrios in full gallop, quickly gaining on them. Caspian leaned forward, hunching down close to Reepicheep and the horse's neck.

The two raced through the small town outside the castle and soon emerged onto the open road. After a few minutes at a hard gallop, Caspian brought Destrier back down to a walk, the horse's sides heaving from the exertion. "Good boy," he murmured, patting the horse's neck. He ignored the centaur walking a few feet behind them, and allowed Destrier to wander aimlessly along the path. Reepicheep was also silent-a rarity for the chatty Mouse-as though he sensed his monarch's darkening mood. Because, despite his hopes to the contrary, Caspian did not find his attitude at all improved by the fresh air.

Before long, Caspian took up his reigns again, beginning now to lead Destrier, although even he wasn't sure quite where they were going. At his back, Avernetrios remained silent, and there were times that Caspian managed to forget that he was there.

Eventually, Caspian drew Destrier up to a stop. They were now at the top of a cliff, overlooking a great field. He knew that they were close to Aslan's How and the Stone Table, although he couldn't quite place their location.

Beside the king, Avernetrios cleared his throat softly. "Your majesty, do you know where we are?"

Caspian stared down at the field below them, a great green expanse broken by a blue ribbon of a river glistening in the late afternoon sun on the far side of the meadow. "I know that we're near Aslan's How, and I think also the Fords of Beruna."

"Correct," Avernetrios nodded. He stamped his front hooves and shook long, wavy hair out of his face. "This is, in fact, the site of the First Battle of Beruna, where High King Peter and King Edmund led the Old Narnians in battle against the White Witch, and where Aslan killed her, ending her reign of terror."

Caspian smiled slightly and gripped the hilt of Rhindon, hung at his hip, running his thumb over the carved lion's head on the pommel.

"Just beyond that bend in the river," Avernetrios continued, pointing into the distance, "are the Fords of Beruna, where you and the Kings and Queens of Old led the Telmarine army to face Aslan's justice."

Caspian nodded. "Were you there?"

"I was injured during the battle at the How," Avernetrios replied. "I did not see what happened at the Fords."

Caspian nodded again. "Thank you for standing at my side that day," he said.

"It was the right thing," Avernetrios replied.

Caspian looked over and took in the centaur for the first time since their meeting. Avernetrios was young, probably not much older than Caspian, if at all. His horse's body was a rich red, and his legs were dappled with brown. He was tall and regal and broad-shouldered, with strong arms, and one of his hands rested on the hilt of a greatsword strapped to his flank. His head-hair was a vibrant red, brighter than the hair of his body, and had coppery highlights; it was long and wavy, falling nearly far enough to brush against the join of his human and horse bodies. His skin was darker than Caspian's, rich and earthy, and darkened further by the sun. He had wide brown eyes that seemed to stare deep into Caspian's soul when they made eye contact.

Caspian smiled slightly and turned back to look over the fields. "Thank you for coming with me today, Avernetrios."

Avernetrios inclined his head. "It was my honor to ride with you, sire."

"Your majesty," Reepicheep piped up. "It does seem to be getting late. Perhaps we should head back to the castle?"

"You're right," Caspian noticed for the first time that the sky in front of them was beginning to grow darker. He touched his heels to Destrier and wheeled the horse around, heading back for the main roads. "Avernetrios?" he turned to look back at the centaur, who had fallen in behind them.

"Yes, sire?" the centaur cocked his head to the side.

"Ride beside me, please," Caspian said.

Wordlessly, Avernetrios obliged, trotting up beside Destrier. He kept pace with the warhorse easily. Now that they were side by side, Caspian noticed that Avernetrios kept his eyes on the forest around them, ever wary and alert. In front of Caspian, Reepicheep did the same, staring deep into the darkening woods.

"Thank you," Caspian said suddenly, looking between them.

"For what, your majesty?" Avernetrios asked.

"For riding out with me today. Both of you." Caspian explained. "Ever since I returned to my uncle's castle, I have felt so alone. But today, for the first time in… weeks, really, I have been reminded what it feels like to be with others." He glanced at the centaur beside him and smiled. "To be with people who could become friends."

Avernetrios smiled. "I am glad to have been of service to your majesty." His smile broadened. "And I would be glad to one day call you friend."

"Well, first off," Caspian grinned teasingly, "you really have to stop calling me 'your majesty'. My name is Caspian, and friends don't call each other by their titles." He didn't bother to have the same conversation with Reepicheep-he had lost that battle weeks ago.

"Sire, I couldn't!" Avernetrios said. "It wouldn't be proper."

"At least when we're alone?" Caspian suggested. "I won't tell if you don't-and neither will Reepicheep."

Avernetrios laughed. "If you insist… Caspian."


	2. Cair Paravel

**Summary: Caspian determines to rebuild the castle-on-the-sea and make it his new capitol.**

 **Timeline: About 6 months after the events of** ** _Prince Caspian_** **.**

 **Disclaimer: See Ch. 1.**

.*.*.*.*.*.

Caspian ducked down to avoid a low-hanging tree branch and felt the leaved brush against the back of his head as he flew under it. He was astride his warhorse, Destrier, and they were racing through the forest-one of the few things Caspian was able to do on his own now that he was king, although that was largely because almost no-one could keep up with him. Seconds after Caspian and Destrier cleared the branch, the king heard a thud and a loud "Ow!" from behind him. He brought Destrier up to a halt, turned the horse around, and looked back to find the source.

Sprawled on the ground, long legs askew, was a centaur. Caspian let a chuckle escape as he dismounted and headed towards his friend. "You're supposed to dodge the branch, you know."

The only reply was an unintelligible grumble as Avernetrios finally managed to roll onto his side. "Give me a hand up, would you? You have no idea how hard it is to stand up when you have legs like these."

With some difficulty, Caspian and Avernetrios managed to get the centaur on his feet again. Once he was standing, Avernetrios brushed himself off, shook out his long hair, swished his tail, and stamped his hooves. "There. That's better."

Caspian laughed and returned to Destrier. "Come on. Let's keep going."

"How did you manage to avoid that?" Avernetrios called after him. He trotted up beside Caspian. "I didn't even see it."

"I've been knocked off my horse by a branch before. It's not an experience I wish to repeat." Caspian shuddered at the memory of the night he had fled his wicked uncle. Sometimes it felt as though the whole ordeal leading up to his coronation had happened only days ago, sometimes it seemed more like years, while in reality it had only been a few months.

"Well, I certainly hope I never repeat it," Avernetrios rubbed a hand across the red mark on his left shoulder. "Ouch. That's definitely going to bruise."

Caspian chuckled and kept riding. Avernetrios lapsed into silence as well, and soon the only sound was that of eight hooves trampling the forest floor. The trees around them were brilliant with the colors of autumn-fiery orange, blood red, earthy brown, sunny yellow, and rosy pink-and fallen leaves carpeted the ground beneath them. In fact, the whole reason for Caspian and Avernetrios's ride that day was fear of the impending winter, which had the potential to trap both of the restless boys in the castle. As it was, the day was brisk. Even through his heavy cloak and tunic, Caspian could feel the chill of the air; an observer would notice the bright red of his nose, cheeks, and ears. Avernetrios wore only a long-sleeved shirt under his boiled leather armor, but, as he rarely wore any clothes beyond his armor, this spoke as much to the cold as Caspian's heavy layers did.

As they began to emerge from the forest, Caspian slowed Destrier to a walk, and Avernetrios matched the new pace. "It's getting late," said the centaur. "We should turn back soon."

"Soon," Caspian promised, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. "Where are we?"

Avernetrios rolled his eyes. "You have no head for direction. We're getting close to the sea. Near where Cair Paravel is supposed to be, actually."

Caspian nodded. In the distance, just under the line of the horizon, he could see a brilliant blue stripe. _The sea_ , he thought, although he had never seen it.

"Not today, sire," Avernetrios said gently but firmly. "It's too far into the year. If it were still summer, and we had hours of light left, I would run with you to the sea, but not today. We don't want to have to find our way home through the forest at night."

Reluctantly, Caspian nodded and turned Destrier around. They didn't speak much on the ride back to Caspian's castle, especially as the temperature began to drop and night began to fall, and both focused on conserving their warmth and finding the way home.

.*.*.*.*.*.

In the morning, when Caspian woke and made to get out of bed, he actually gasped when the frigid air of his chamber hit his skin. There was a fire in the grate of his room, but it was low-burning; he hurried across the room to stoke it, shivering from the moment his feet touched the floor. He dressed quickly in a heavy pair of trousers, shirt, thick tunic, and knit socks-the last a gift from his old nursemaid. A breakfast tray had been placed on his table by whoever started the fire, and he ate a quick meal before belting on Rhindon and leaving the room.

"Good morning, sire!" Reepicheep's morning salutations had become routine for Caspian by this point-the Mouse hardly left his side throughout the day, insisting on guarding Caspian from the moment he left his room in the morning until he returned at night.

"Good morning, Reepicheep," Caspian smiled down at the mouse, who scurried along beside him.

When they reached the council chamber, they found several of the lords already assembled: Trumpkin and Trufflehunter were in their seats, while Doctor Cornelius stood by and chatted with them. The Bulgy Bear was sucking on his paw in the corner-everyone had given up on trying to break him of the habit-and Glenstorm and his sons, Ironhoof and Suncloud, each stood in the other corners. The two long and one of the short sides of the rectangle were comprised of the Lords' seats, while the final short side was formed by the dais on which Caspian's throne stood. Avernetrios already stood on the dais by the throne.

"Nice scarf," Caspian grinned up at his friend as he took his seat.

Avernetrios simply gave a huge sniffle in response.

"Bless you," Caspian mumbled.

Avernetrios glared down at his king. "I didn't sneeze," he whispered.

"I know," Caspian grinned slightly.

Once the remaining lords had filled out their seats in the chamber, Doctor Cornelius called the assembly to order and called for new business to be brought forward. For several long moments, there was silence, broken only by the sound of the Bear sucking his paw, but finally, a stocky black dwarf on the far side of the chamber hopped down off of his seat and strode forward. "Your majesty, if I may?" he bowed deeply.

"Speak, Lord Darendulum," Caspian said.

"Well, your majesty," Darendulum said slowly, "I've just returned from a visit with my people in the North, and there seems to be a bit of unrest there."

"No surprise there," Reepicheep mumbled.

Caspian coughed in attempt to cover the Mouse's words. Darendulum seemed to take no notice, and continued:

"The Black Dwarves," Darendulum's voice rose as he stepped down and away from his seat, heading toward the center of the chamber, "do not feel as though the new King of Narnia is behaving in such a way that befits a King of Narnia. Leaving out the fact that King Caspian is a Telmarine, unlike the Kings and Queens of Old, he rules from this… place.

"It has long been told that the Telmarines, led by our own king's forefather, built the castle from which they would rule Narnia on the ruins of the castle once built by the White Witch, many ages ago," Darendulum continued. "You all may have forgotten her tyranny, but many of my own people remember"-

"Remember the days when you served her?" Trumpkin interrupted. "Because let's not forget that that's how the winter came to pass. The Black Dwarves were the first to fall under the Witch's sway, and the last to come out from under it. Some of you are still there, if my memory of our king's revolt serves me right."

"Nikabrik and his followers were outliers," Darendulum snapped, whipping around to glower at Trumpkin. "Most of the Black Dwarves live lives of peace and loyalty to Aslan."

"Let's not get distracted here," Trufflehunter the Badger stood, hands outstretched placatingly towards both dwarves. "Lord Darendulum was addressing the matter of his majesty's living quarters." Even the ever-patient Badger seemed irritated by the trivial line of discussion that Darendulum had raised.

"Of course," Darendulum straightened up and turned back towards Caspian. "You see, my king, the issue that my people have raised is a moral one. This castle, whether or not its origin lies with the Witch or the Telmarines, is a symbol of oppression towards the native races of Narnia. Some even wonder-not I, of course, your majesty-if it is possible that even being in a place of such historical persecution could… inspire your majesty to a similarly terrifying reign over the Old Narnians."

Before the words had even left his lips, Reepicheep was off. In the blink of an eye, he had vaulted off of the dais and sprinted to where Darendulum stood, drawing his sword in the process. "How dare you impugn his majesty's honor, dwarf!" the Mouse squeaked shrilly.

Trufflehunter buried his head in his paws. Doctor Cornelius sat up straight, looking extremely alarmed. The Bulgy Bear's paw fell out of his mouth as his jaw dropped in shock.

Caspian glanced around the chamber. The other Black Dwarf representatives were on the edges of their seats, hands on their sword hilts-in that moment, Caspian regretted allowing the lords to carry weapons into the chamber-while Trumpkin and the other Red Dwarves were edging forward, eyes on their dark-skinned relatives as though they were looking for an excuse to draw their weapons. Glenstorm, Ironhoof, and Suncloud had already edged their swords slightly out of the sheaths, and the steel of the blades glimmered in the morning sun that streamed into the chamber. Beside Caspian, Avernetrios stood stock still with his arms crossed, but the king could tell that every muscle in his body was tensed, and he saw a glimmer of metal under the edges of the centaur's scarf.

Caspian did the only thing he could think of.

He leapt to his feet. "Enough!" he cried. All eyes, even Reepicheep's, turned to him. "Reepicheep, put your blade away. The rest of you, hands off your swords, please. This is a place of discussion, not of battle."

Slowly, the Dwarves began to settle back into their seats, glaring at one another across the room. The centaurs slid their swords back into their sheaths, Reepicheep lowered his sword, and Caspian heard a soft click as Avernetrios returned his hidden blades to their homes. Once everyone had returned to their seats-with the exception of Reepicheep and Darendulum-Caspian stepped forward.

"I must admit," he began, continuing to move towards Darendululm, who now seemed completely uncomfortable, "that the thought had crossed my mind as well. Admittedly, I had never heard the suggestion that this castle was that of the Witch, but I had considered its implications based on the Telmarine regime of my ancestors."

"Say the word, your majesty, and the Black Dwarves will begin construction on a new palace immediately!" Darendulum said eagerly.

"The Red Dwarves as well!" Rorfok, lead representative of the Red Dwarves, leapt to his feet now.

"Thank you," Caspian held up his hands, "but I wasn't thinking of a… _new_ place, exactly."

He turned in a slow circle, taking in the lords around the chamber. "Yesterday, I went on a ride with Avernetrios," he gestured to the centaur still standing on the dais. "We rode further than normal, taking in the good weather-who knows how much longer that will be around, as winter begins to come-and found ourselves very near the sea. Avernetrios told me that we were near where the legends say Cair Paravel may be, although, so far as I know, only Trumpkin has ever seen that.

"Anyways, it was too late in the day for us to go all the way to the sea, but as we began our return trip, I couldn't help but think of Cair Paravel and what it meant. Not just as a home, but as a symbol. After all, it is where the Kings and Queens of Old ruled over Narnia after defeating the White Witch, and, according to Doctor Cornelius's history books, it was the traditional seat of government both before and after that time. Until my people, the Telmarines, destroyed it, of course.

Caspian hand done nearly an entire circuit of the room by now, and ascended the dais. "Trumpkin, if I asked you to take us back to Cair Paravel, do you think that you could?"

The dwarf shifted in his seat and harrumphed slightly. "I don't see why not," he said. "It's not like it was hard to find the first time around."

"As for the rest of you noble dwarves, would your offer still stand if I asked you for a reconstruction, rather than a truly new build?" Caspian glanced around, smiling slightly.

Many of the dwarves traded eager glances. "Of course, your majesty!" Rorfok cried out, just before Darendulum said "My people would be honored, Sire!"

Caspian grinned and nodded at both of them. "Thank you, my lords. I look forward to seeing the results."

.*.*.*.*.*.

Three days later-the expedition having been delayed slightly due to autumn rains-Caspian, Trumpkin, and their companions stood on a cliff, looking across a narrow channel far below them, to a small island. At the crest of a hill on the island, they could just see bits and pieces of ancient stone ruins peeping between great trees.

"That's it," Trumpkin nodded firmly.

"But how do we _get_ there?" Darendulum grumbled, shaking water that had dripped off of an overhanging tree off of his head.

"That channel," Trumpkin pointed down at the water, "comes inland, down there," he traced the rough path with his finger. "The forest slopes down to meet it. We'll need rowboats-that's how the Telmarines took me out into the channel, and the Kings and Queens and I rowed back up to get reach King Caspian and his army. Once we get on the island, there are a few small paths up to the remains of the castle. We'll need to widen those, certainly, in order to get the materials we need up to the top of the hill, but they're not too hard to find once you start looking for them."

"We can begin construction within the week," Darendulum promised grandly. "We'll have to start bringing materials in from the north and south, of course, but the first shipment could be here within days. Until then, we can take the builders and begin to plan a course of action."

Rorfok was nodding eagerly, the rivalry between the two races forgotten in their excitement for the project. "We can clear the trees and paths while we wait for the stone-that could start tomorrow, providing the weather is good enough-and see what parts of the old castle can be incorporated into the new structure."

As they headed back to the horses, waiting at the bottom of the last his will the rest of the retinue, Caspian, Trumpkin, and Avernetrios fell to the back of the group, the excited chatter of the other dwarves filling the forest ahead of them.

"Excellent, your majesty," Avernetrios said softly.

"What's that?" Caspian asked.

"Not only did you defuse a brewing conflict, you've also cemented your position as someone who is on the side of the Old Narnians," Avernetrios said. "You've demonstrated a respect and even interest for our history, not to mention a knowledge of it. And you are making yourself a part of that history, not by trying to become one of us, but by creating something new: a combination of Narnia and everything that makes you and the other remaining Telmarines different from the others of your race. Very well done."


	3. Seven Noble Lords, Part 1

**A/N: Okay, so bear with me here as I do a little bit of personal worldbuilding-I got a little carried away with the descriptions of the new Cair Paravel. This story also ended up like three times as long as I meant for it to be... So I'll be posting it in three parts. Stay tuned!**

 **Summary: Caspian determines to find the seven friends of his father that Miraz forced out of Narnia.**

 **Timeline: About a year after the events of Prince Caspian.**

 **Disclaimer: See Ch. 1.**

.*.*.*.*.*.

Caspian and his court moved into Cair Paravel in the middle of the next spring. The dwarves, despite the winter weather, had worked hard for months on rebuilding the castle, and while no-one expected that it looked the same as it had hundreds of years earlier, when the four Pevensies ruled Narnia, they were all extremely impressed with the handiwork of the dwarves. The dwarves, naturally, responded to compliments on their craftsmanship with comments like "oh, it was nothing, of course", but were really very proud of their work.

On his first day holding court in the palace, Caspian stood at the great window behind the dais in the throne room and stared out over the sea. It sparkled a brilliant blue and turquoise in the morning sun, and he saw ribbons of white foam at the tops of the waves far below. The stripe of golden sand was dotted with dark figures-the dwarves and many others were now hard at work building a port to go along with the new capital of Narnia. A small settlement had also sprung up along the main road through the forest; this is where the builders had stayed throughout the fall and winter during the construction of the castle. Now that the king and his court had moved officially into Cair Paravel, there was no doubt that the settlement would soon grow into a town of more permanent structures.

The throne room of Cair Paravel wasn't hugely different from that of Miraz's Castle, for which Caspian was grateful-the layout had always seemed practical to him, and every taste of government he'd ever had, beyond the time spent leading the Narnians in their revolt from Aslan's How, had come from within that room. Therefore, the room was a great rectangle, longer actually than that of the castle of the Telmarines, and a large square was formed on three sides by beautifully crafted seats for the Lords and by the dais on the fourth. These seats, unlike the massive ugly chairs of the Telmarine court, were beautifully crafted and hand carved out of the finest woods by satyr and faun craftsmen. The seats were cushioned in lovely, bright fabrics, the wooden arms and back were decorated with intricate scenes (mostly of flowers and trees, but also of other things that would represent the person supposed to sit in the chair), and each chair was perfectly sized and suited for its intended occupant: low seats for dwarves, high broad seats for minotaurs and satyrs, stairs up to Reepicheep's tiny seat-so that he wouldn't be seated lower than everyone else-and an extra-stuffed cushion for Doctor Cornelius's old bones. The chairs were fully movable, unlike those in the Telmarine court, to allow them to be taken to the sides so that the room could be used as a Hall.

In the front center of the dais was Caspian's throne. There had been some discussion as to whether it should be a stone throne, like the one in Miraz's castle, and like the four thrones of old were rumored to have been (and the ruins of the castle seemed to support the latter). Finally, someone came up with the idea to construct a throne out of stone remnants of the original castle of Cair Paravel, and that is what now stood on the dais in the throne room. It was a large throne, but not ornate, made simply of chunks of white stone carved to fit together perfectly. The base of the throne was carved to look like the trunk and roots of a tree, and flowed down into the grey and white stone of the dais (as this was constructed out of what remained of the original dais, along with new stone brought by the dwarves), and the back and arms were made to look like twisting vines or branches. At the center of the back of the chair was a medallion of plain white stone, into which Caspian had tasked Trumpkin with carving a relief of a lion's face and mane, to represent Aslan.

The rest of the castle was similarly a combination of the old and the new. The foundations of many of the walls and towers were still made of the old off-white stone that the original Cair Paravel had been constructed from, but had been added onto with soft-colored grey stone mined by the dwarves in the north. The gates and doorways were made of redstone from the southern mountains, so that, all-in-all, Cair Paravel was, even at first sight, much brighter and more colorful than Miraz's castle had ever been. Inside the halls of the castle, bright tapestries, depicting the reigns of great kings and queens of history-not just the four Pevensies-and the early events of Caspian's reign were hung. These had been woven by centauresses and dryads and many of the Talking Beasts, and presented to the young king as a sort of "housewarming" gift. Spaced between the tapestries, except in interior rooms and corridors, were huge windows, most of them ranging from floor to ceiling, looking out over the sea to the east, Narnia to the west, and the forest that still surrounded the castle. The views were breathtaking; Caspian easily found himself lost in them, just as he was now.

"Your majesty?" came a gentle voice from behind him, and Caspian snapped out of his reverie. He turned around and found Doctor Cornelius standing behind him, resplendent in his plain blue robes, with his long white beard tucked into his belt and hair freshly combed and braided.

"Good morning, Doctor," Caspian smiled. It was almost as though the sea air of the island was working a miracle in all of them-Doctor Cornelius looked years younger after only a few days in the castle, and Caspian felt himself freshly renewed-fully invigorated for almost the first time since he had taken his throne.

"A truly magnificent view, isn't it?" the doctor's gaze drifted out the window, taking in the sea, forest, and beach below them.

"Yes," Caspian agreed.

"I hear-and see-that the dwarves have begun building a port down to the east?" Doctor Cornelius nodded towards the bustle of construction down on the beach.

"Yes," Caspian said again. "I don't think it was so much their idea-I think the minotaurs probably had something to do with it; did you know that, according to legend, the minotaurs were the first seafarers in Narnia? They taught the craft to the other races, and some say to men as well."

"A pity that the knowledge of seafaring was lost when the Telmarines invaded," Cornelius sighed.

"A pity," Caspian agreed. "I have never understood why my people feared the sea so much."

"The Telmarines feared what they didn't understand," Cornelius said. "The sea, the Narnians, Aslan… They had no knowledge of these things, but instead of seeking to learn about them, they feared them and pushed them away. And so much knowledge has been lost."

"But it doesn't have to be lost for good," Caspian pointed out. "There are legends of islands near the eastern coast of Narnia-even the Telmarines spoke of them, and a representative from Galma has sat on the Council of Lords for most of our history."

"Unfortunately, the last of these representatives was killed in the Battle of Beruna, and we have no way of contacting his people," said the doctor.

"Not necessarily," Caspian said, his eyes beginning to shine with excitement. "Doctor, I have a task for you."

"Anything you ask, my king, I will do, so long as it is in my power-and does not go against the laws of Aslan," Cornelius bowed slightly.

"Would you please spend some time searching your books for any mentions of seafaring or sailing?" Caspian asked. "I have already spoken to the minotaurs, but they do not keep much of a written history, although they have promised to speak to their storytellers to see what they may remember. I have asked the same of the centaurs."

"I will search my texts, sire," Cornelius said, "but I will make no promises that there will be anything to be found in them."

"All I ask is that you search," Caspian said. "And if nothing is found… well, then we may have to take the study of seafaring from the beginning."


	4. Seven Noble Lords, Part 2

**A/N: The song that Wrega sings in this chapter is from the Irish film** ** _Song of the Sea_** **. I tweaked it a bit, and then rewrote two lines in the last section she sings.**

 **Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. I do not own** ** _Song of the Sea_** **.**

.*.*.*.*.*.

Several weeks after Caspian had made his first inquiries into the subject of seafaring, the minotaurs, centaurs, and Doctor Cornelius came to him with their results, which he asked them to report to the full Council at the next meeting.

"My Lords!" Caspian called the council to order. It was well into spring at this point, and, since many of the panels in the glass wall behind him and the windows in the sides of the hall had been designed to open like doors, they had been thrown open, letting the gentle sea breeze fill the hall. It was exactly the sort of weather in which the discussion of a sea voyage would be best received, no matter how reluctant the listener may be about the idea of sailing. "Welcome. Please, take your seats. Does anyone have any business to bring before the council?

Darendulum and Rorfok, along with Wrega, a huge minotaur with shaggy light brown fur, gave reports on the construction around Cair Paravel-the name having already come to refer to the entire island, not just the castle itself-including the rapidly-growing town, port and docks, and a ferry dock on each side of the channel between the island and the mainland of Narnia. Trufflehunter shared, on behalf of the Talking Beasts and Trees and dryads of the nearby forest, the results of a survey on what would be the best location to begin building a proper road down to the coast, to fully connect Cair Paravel with the rest of Narnia. Glenstorm came forward and told them all what he had read in the stars recently-the summary was that all portents were good.

Finally, the Lords were done with their business. Caspian rose to his feet and took a step forward. "My Lords," he said, "I have a topic to bring to you for discussion. Several weeks ago, I spoke with Glenstorm, Wrega, and Doctor Cornelius on the subject of seafaring, and asked each of them to go to their sources to see what was remembered on the topic. Over the past few days, each has come to me with their results, and I have asked them to share those with all of you."

"Why is your majesty so concerned with the sea?" one of the remaining Telmarine lords asked loudly. "Nothing good has ever come from it, at least not to our people."

"Quite to the contrary," Trufflehunter said gently. "Not only did the Kings and Queens of Old rule from Cair Paravel, the very ruins on which this castle has been built, the castle-on-the-sea, but in every legend, Aslan has come to Narnia from the east-from over the sea. Even when our very own King Caspian blew the horn of Queen Susan, it was by the sea that Trumpkin found the four Kings and Queens and brought them to the rest of us to defeat the usurper Miraz."

"Historically," said Doctor Cornelius, "there was a good deal of trade between Narnia and the islands which were governed by the King (or Queen) of Narnia: the Seven Isles, Galma, Terebinthia, and the Lone Islands. Not to mention the lands to the south, such as Calormen and Telmar. Sea trade may not be so practical with Archenland; I'm not sure what ports that country has, it would certainly be far more practical to lands beyond the mountain range in which Archenland is settled. And if there were ever to be another uprising of the giants to the north, think how practical it would be to be able to attack them from two fronts-the land to the south and sea to the east."

Caspian smiled thankfully at his old friend. "I couldn't have put it better myself, Doctor," he said. "And there are other reasons to learn the ways of the sea, but I will save those until after the reports. Doctor Cornelius, since you have already shared some of your wisdom with us, will you take the floor?"

"Of course, sire," the doctor stood and stepped into the center of the square. "King Caspian asked me to consult my historical tomes for mentions of seafaring-particularly of the mechanics of the craft. Unfortunately, much of what I found concerning the sea was in regards to trade and tribute from the islands under Narnia's government-the aforementioned Seven Isles, Lone Islands, Galma, and Terebinthia. The nearest of these is Galma, as many of you may know, and this is also the only island that has remained under rule of the Telmarine kings for the past few hundred years. In the histories of Caspian I and his subjects, I found mention of the Lone Islands and Terebinthia, but not much. There was not a great deal of settlement in the Lone Islands, and Caspian I seemed to be concerned of any objection from the Calormene Tisroc if he attempted to subjugate them, and so left them be. Terebinthia was more civilised, in Caspian's mind, but he made little attempt to overtake it.

"It seems to me that Caspian I was more interested in taking Narnia itself than the sovereign islands associated with it, with the exception of Galma, which he claimed in order to have a better platform from which to launch his attack on Cair Paravel and the rest of Narnia. Once he had taken-or, rather, destroyed-Cair Paravel and moved further inland, Galma was easily retained with threats of violence from Caspian I and his son and grandson. After that, Galma showed no indication of revolt, and soon began to be peacefully allied with the Telmarine regime. And, as the Telmarines forgot where they came from, they grew to fear the sea, and soon forgot the very ships that had brought them to Narnia in the first place. Galma retained its connection with the sea largely out of necessity-after all, a small island can only be so independent-although it was primarily self-sufficient, and had little trade with Narnia, and even its tribute grew less over the years.

"The only mention I found on the actual mechanics of sailing and of seafaring vessels came from a single, rather small volume, which I actually believe to be a journal of some sort, although who it belonged to was a mystery. It was written long before the invasion of the Telmarines, and has many sketches and drawings of ships that the author saw in the port in which he or she lived-the exact location is unclear, but I believe it to be somewhere in the Lone Islands or Terebinthia, due to the prominent mentions of Calormen and Archenland in the written sections. Unfortunately, these drawings are not proper schematics, nor do they have any sort of measurements for the ships they represent, or any indication as to which ships may be suited for long voyages versus short, or sea travels versus trips through shallower waters along the coasts." His speech finished, Cornelius turned and bowed to Caspian, then returned to his seat.

"Wrega, what did you learn from the storytellers of your people?" Caspian called upon the tawny minotaur lord.

Wrega stood and returned to the centaur of the chamber. She was one of the most massive creatures Caspian-and many others, particularly the humans, in the chamber-had ever seen, standing well over seven feet tall, and nearly as broad as two men stood side-by-side. Her biceps were easily as thick around as Caspian's thighs, and her thighs had a circumference nearer that of Trumpkin's waist. Her horns were smaller than most of the minotaurs Caspian had known, since many of them had been male, but were at least as thick as his wrist, and were decorated with bands of silver and gold. A big gold ring went through her nose, and her long ears were pierced several times each and hung with gold and silver hoops that chimed when she walked. Her shaggy fur was braided and twisted away from her wide dark eyes and long snout, and she wore silver and gold bands on her forearms and ankles-the ones on her ankles jangled with each heavy step she took, so that it was very easy to hear her coming.

"I spoke to Jaraska, the oldest and foremost of our storytellers," Wrega said in her great booming voice. "Jaraska knew a few stories of the times when our people still sailed the seas, before being forced into subjugation and hiding by the Telmarines"-here she side-eyed the Telmarine lords seated nearest her- "and were no longer able to practice our craft. He sang me a song called 'Song of the Sea'." Here, Wrega drew herself up to her full height, puffed out her chest, and began to sing:

 _Between the here, between the now,_

 _Between the North, Between the South,_

 _Between the West, Between the East,_

 _Between the time, Between the place,_

 _From the shell,_

 _The Song of the Sea,_

 _Neither quiet nor calm,_

 _Searching for love again._

 _Between the winds, Between the waves,_

 _Between the sands, Between the shores,_

 _Between the stones, Between the storms,_

 _Between belief, Between the seas,_

 _Calling us back,_

 _The Song of the Sea,_

 _Neither quiet nor calm,_

 _Searching for home again._

"According to Jaraska," Wrega continued in her speaking voice, "the sea calls to the minotaurs because we were once the closest to it. Minotaurs developed the craft of sailing because we sought to explore the world beyond the borders of land. In ancient times, aging minotaurs would man ships and sail to the far east, to Aslan's country." Her face fell. "Unfortunately, in the time of the White Witch, many of the young minotaurs, preferring lives of excitement in the world, turned to her, and the practice of sailing east faded.

"And so, our reputation as seafarers faded as well, and many of the oldest stories, the ones telling of our prowess upon the waves, faded with it. Even that song is only a fragment of what it once was-Jaraska remembers his grandfather, the singer who trained him, speaking of old verses, forgotten even when he was young, that spoke of what would be found to the east if one were to sail there. Unfortunately, the stories and songs that Jaraska, and the other elders I spoke to, remember only tell of the adventures to be had across the seas, rather than precisely how to get to that point."

"Thank you, Wrega," Caspian said. He had felt something in his heart stir with the haunting melody that Wrega had sung, and although no-one had yet brought any particularly solid information to him, he still felt hopeful for the prospect of one day sailing east himself. "Glenstorm, you are the last I have asked to speak. What do you have to share with us?"

"I have spoken with many of the storytellers of my people, and many had stories of the sea," Glenstorm replied, taking Wrega's place in the center of the chamber. "But, like the minotaurs, they mostly told of the adventures of seafarers, rather then of the ships taken on those adventures."

Caspian felt the hope that had begun to rise in his heart begin to fall away. He saw Reepicheep's face fall far more visibly, and Doctor Cornelius seemed to be equally crestfallen. Many of the Telmarines, however, seemed relieved at the lack of specificity, and most of the Talking Beasts and Narnians-excepting the minotaurs-looked largely unconcerned one way or the other.

"However," the word snapped Caspian out of his despairing thoughts, "The storyteller Inite had a story to tell. You see, for the most part, centaurs do not write our histories-like the minotaurs and many others, we rely on oral storytelling and song-singing to keep our memories alive. But shortly after the Telmarine invasion, when they had destroyed many of the Narnians and continued to hunt the rest, the centaurs began to write down their stories, so that if a storyteller died without passing on his tales, they would still be preserved. The libraries were broken up and hidden around Narnia even as they were created, carved into wood sheets and stone tablets, rather than indelible paper. Some were only simple drawings-like those on the walls of Aslan's How, which many of us are so familiar with-while others were ornate prose and poetry.

"Inite took myself, my sons, and a few others to the known locations of these libraries, since now we feel safe enough to begin to collect them into a place for reference purposes anyways, and we brought all of the literature that we could carry back with us, and began to search through it. Inite and Lightning Bolt are still doing so, attempting to organize the collection and catalogue it. We found a few stories concerning, as I mentioned already, the adventures of seafarers, but finally, we came across a sort of log written by an unknown scribe, telling the story of Myranthe, a centauress who, according to legend, was one of the few centaurs to actually sail the sea. It seemed as though the log had been recorded either by Myranthe herself, or by one speaking directly to her, and it included the rough dimensions of the vessel in which she sailed, as well as the type of wood that the ship was constructed from."

"Dimensions?" Doctor Cornelius asked excitedly.

"How rough?" Darendulum asked warily.

"Myranthe gave the length of the ship based on her own steps," Glenstorm explained. "She compared the height of the mast to her own height, and the depth of the ship to her own height as well. If we take a measurement of a centauress of average height and stride, this will give us a rough idea of where to start with the measurements of a ship."

"What sort of ship did Myranthe sail on?" asked Caspian, now on the edge of his seat and leaning forward eagerly. "Was it one designed for the open seas, or for hugging the coastline?"

"The ship seems to have been designed for short trips near land," Glenstorm replied. "Myranthe sailed to Galma on one trip, and to Terebinthia and the Lone Islands on the second. Additionally, since centaurs aren't exactly… built for seafaring, it seems unlikely that she would have even been welcome on any other sort of ship."

"Well, no matter what, it's certainly a place to start," Caspian said, settling back slightly. Glenstorm bowed and returned to his place at the corner of the square.


	5. Seven Noble Lords, Part 3

**Disclaimer: See Ch. 1.**

.*.*.*.*.*.

"Your majesty?" Trufflehunter's long face had turned to face the king. "You have yet to say why exactly _you_ have taken an interest in the sea."

Caspian smiled. "You're right, Trufflehunter-I apologize. I seem to recall saying that I would do so once the others had shared their findings, and nearly forgot about it entirely." He stood and stepped down towards the center of the square, a fresh breeze flowing through the windows and into the room as he did, stirring the hair on his forehead and the edges of his loose shirt. "My lords, I must admit that my desire to explore the sea is not entirely… selfless. While all of the trade reasons that Doctor Cornelius spoke of earlier are certainly things that I had thought of these past weeks, along with the advantage of having the extra line of attack or defense should war arise with any of our neighboring nations, my initial desire to rekindle a national interest in seafaring was purely selfish: I have always wondered what lay in-and beyond-the sea.

"However," he continued, "there is another reason even beyond that. Many of you Telmarine lords certainly remember when my uncle Miraz came into power. His behavior towards those that he deemed disloyal to him verged on tyrannical, and this included my father's seven closest friends: the Lord Revilian, the Lord Bern, the Lord Argoz, the Lord Mavramorn, the Lord Octesian, the Lord Restimar, and the Lord Rhoop. Worried that these seven noble lords would stand by my side, rather than supporting Miraz's own tentative claim, my uncle sent them on a farce of a 'mapping expedition', and told them to explore the eastern seas. None of the seven have been seen since. Since it was on my account that they were driven from this land, I feel that it is my duty, as King of Narnia, to officially lead the search for the seven lords and bring them home."

The chamber fell silent; only the whispering of the new leaves on the trees outside was heard. Glenstorm shifted where he stood, his hooves scraping against the flagstones. Someone shifted in his chair; someone else coughed. The faces of the lords wore a myriad of expressions; some seemed incredulous, others were disapproving, even others seemed entirely bored of the conversation. Caspian held his breath as he waited for a response.

"Your majesty," Lord Scopian, the newest human on the council and the governor of the newly rebuilt town of Beruna, slowly rose to his feet. "While this is certainly a _noble_ quest that you have proposed, I must raise my voice in objection to its _practicality_. For one thing, do you intend to search out these lords yourself?"

"I have not yet decided," Caspian said. "While on one hand, as I have already freely admitted, it is certainly my unparalleled desire to explore the Easter Sea, I also realize that it is impractical for me to actually plan to do so." Scopian seemed relieved, and took his seat again. "However, it does only seem right that I, as king and representative of Narnia, go personally on this voyage in order to persuade the lords that this is not simply a trick by Miraz to lead them to their deaths." Scopian looked alarmed again. "Of course, all of this is still theoretical. We are ages away from being able to even dream of such a voyage-there is a great deal we must learn before preparations can even be thought of. And, once again, this is not the _primary_ goal of founding a naval program; the primary goal is, of course, trade, while defense and offense are immediate secondary goals. A rescue mission for the lost Lords is much further down the list."

The lords who had seemed uneasy by the initial proposition began to look more comfortable with the idea.

"But," Scopian protested, "how can we truly be sure of the soundness of a boat that we have no schematics for?"

"If you think about it," Trumpkin spoke up, looking almost like he had surprised himself in doing so, "the first sailors-whether they were men, or minotaurs, or something else entirely-weren't truly sure of the soundness of whatever vessel they set out in."

"An excellent point, Trumpkin," Trufflehunter agreed. "Not to mention, we don't really need to build a proper seagoing vessel, when all is said and done."

"What do you mean?" Caspian asked.

"Well," Trufflehunter explained, "all we really have to do is get to Galma. Its people are still-or at least were, up until the last anyone heard-proper sailors. They still practice the art of travelling the sea. I don't see why they wouldn't help us correct the ideas we have on the matter, unless they hold any sort of grudge against the Telmarine regime and the wickedness of Miraz, in which case, they will hopefully be easily persuaded that the new king is in a completely different class of monarch from his late uncle."

"It's not like Galma is particularly far, either," Doctor Cornelius added. "Under twenty miles from Cair Paravel, if the maps I have are anything near accurate. On a very clear day, I think it would be possible to see a glimpse of the island in the distance, if one were to stand on the wall of the castle. If the ship sailed right along the coastline as well, it could even be feasible to have some sort of rescue operation ready to aid them if necessary."

Several of the lords began to murmur, filling the chamber with their whispers. Although Caspian couldn't understand most of the words, he thought that the sound was primarily optimistic. He made his way back to his seat, trading glances with Avernetrios, who stood at his usual post to the right side of the king. Avernetrios gave him a slight shrug, and Caspian hid a smile. His new friend was one of the few people he'd confided in when he first conceived of the idea of a naval program, and Avernetrios had made it clear that he, as a centaur, had absolutely no interest in sailing of any sort-despite the legends of Myranthe the seagoing centaur.

As Caspian took his seat once again, the murmurs died away, and the chamber fell silent. He looked out over the lords, taking in the mixture of emotions portrayed on their faces. "Well, my Lords," the young king said in a firm, clear voice. "What is your verdict?"

.*.*.*.*.*.

Several months later, Caspian stood on the main dock of Cair Paravel's new port. On the beach behind him, the hull of a freshly-constructed ship was propped up with scaffolding, ready to be shifted onto rollers, in order to be moved into the water. Caspian could see that the woodwork was rough-even though this was the third ship that had been built, the other two had not been properly waterproof, and had quickly sunk-but certainly looked like many of the pictures from the journal that Cornelius had found. The ship was nearly complete-her hull, decks, and mast were all installed, and the foundling shipwrights who had built her (primarily minotaurs, with aid from a few satyrs, dwarves, and even fauns) planned to put on the finishing touches once she was in the water.

As Caspian and the rest of the audience held their breath, the assembled minotaurs and satyrs strode forward to support the sides of the boat, while the fauns and dwarves quickly disassembled the scaffolding. The giant Wimbleweather stood at the prow of the ship, ready to help tow her into the water. Many of the members of Caspian's council were either on the docks on the shore, and Avernetrios Wrega stood to either side of the king, along with Wrega's cousin Tariki, who had become one of the foremost of the shipwrights. Reepicheep would have stood with them, except that the mouse had volunteered to lead his followers into the boat to check its stability once it was in the water. Tariki and her fellow shipwrights had protested, but Reepicheep had argued that a dozen mice weighed significantly less than even a single minotaur, could do the job far more quickly and more thoroughly, and would likely have an easier and faster time getting out of the ship if anything went wrong. Therefore, Tariki had reluctantly agreed to stand by on the dock with a small dinghy to either board if the ship was deemed safe, or rescue the mice if necessary.

As the scaffolding fell away, the onlookers watched the full weight of the ship fell onto the minotaurs and satyrs supporting it, until Wimbleweather took hold of the prow and began to ease it forward. Very slowly, the ship crept forward, until it finally met the water of the shoreline. The waves lapped against the hull as the minotaurs and satyrs guided it deeper. Once they could go no deeper, Wimbleweather took the full weight of the ship on himself, tugging it gently further and further out into the sea.

Everyone could see the moment when the ship left its contact with the ocean floor. One moment, she appeared to be resting, listing ever so slightly to starboard, and the next she was bobbing, fully upright, her mast tall and proud as the great tree it came from had once stood, pointing up at the sky.

A cheer rang through the crowd, echoing off of the water, but Caspian and Tariki held their exuberance in check. After all, the mice hadn't yet cleared the vessel.

But, after another long moment of taut expectation, Reepicheep suddenly materialized on the side of the boat. He flung out his arms and squeaked at the top of his lungs: " _She is sound!_ "

.*.*.*.*.*.

That night, Caspian could hardly sleep-and not just because of the celebration the minotaurs and other shipwrights were holding on the beach below the castle. His head was full of thoughts, hopes, and dreams that he'd had all his life; dreams of exploring the world to the east and south, of meeting the native peoples of those places, and building new alliances for Narnia. He allowed himself to dream, just for a moment, of the gratitude of his father's old friends when he found them and welcomed them back into Narnia, then forced himself to push away the thought. In the morning, the sun dawned bright and huge in the east, its rays sparkling across the blue sea. Squarely in the center of the sun was the silhouette of the ship, her shadow stretching across the water and onto the golden sands of the beach. Caspian smiled slightly and spared a final thought towards the many adventures that would come from this ship and those to follow, then finally tumbled into bed for a few hours' sleep before he had to truly face the day.


End file.
